Martin Millar - Lonely Werewolf Girl (55 page)

Kalix yelped and transformed into her werewolf shape, then,
after a moment or two, back into human.

"So how did it go?" asked Vex.

"Quite well, I think. Moonglow laughed."

"That's a good sign. Did you remember to frolic?"

"I frolicked loads. And licked her face."

They looked at the TV guides.

"So it's cable TV any time now," said Vex, with satisfaction.
"A master plan, though I say it myself."

Kalix agreed. It had been a good plan. Vex, with all her
experience of manipulating her Aunt Malveria, had picked out a weak
spot in Moonglow's armour.

"You were pretty cute," said Vex. "There's just no way a gothy
girl who likes romantic poetry can say no to a friendly wolf."

Vex suddenly looked worried.

"Uh-oh. Aunt Malvie. Pretend I'm not here."

The doorbell rang and they heard Moonglow tramping downstairs
to answer it. Moonglow had been expecting Thrix and Malveria to visit
earlier in the day, bringing with them a consignment of clothes.

"We were delayed," explained Thrix, and made ready to nudge
Malveria in the ribs if she showed any sign of explaining the reason
for the delay. Thrix had again erased all traces of Gawain from her by
means of sorcery.

Malveria and Thrix had several long cases with them. Malveria
cradled her case like a precious infant.

"Clothes for the party?" enquired Moonglow. "Can I see?"

"No," replied Malveria and Thrix, simultaneously. "They're for
storage in the attic and are not to be touched under any circumstances."

Malveria's nose twitched. She snapped her fingers and Vex
materialised in the room with a quilt over her head.

"Please stop trying to hide under the bedclothes," said the
Fire Queen, exasperated. "It is not a convincing disguise. What are you
doing here?"

Vex struggled out from under the quilt and smiled brightly.

"Hi auntie."

"Well?"

Vex thought briefly.

"I was checking the house was safe for storing your clothes."

"Did I not instruct you to attend to your historical studies
with your tutor today?"

"Something came up."

"And what would that be, dismal niece?" said Malveria,
glowering at her.

"I was watching a DVD with Kalix. We saw nine episodes of the
Simpsons."

"That is not historical, vile girl."

"Well I think they were mostly from last season."

"Pah." Malveria snapped her fingers again and Vex flew back to
her own dimension, protesting bitterly.

Thrix and Malveria climbed up to the attic. This small, dusty
space had now been transformed into a cool, clean, storage area. They
were relying on Kalix's pendant to prevent it being breached by hostile
sorcery. The Enchantress and Malveria had set up a complicated spell to
maintain the pendant's protection even if Kalix left the house. The
loft was now so secure that nothing within it could possibly be
observed from outside. It was safer than Thrix's offices, safer even
than Malve-ria's palace. The new clothes would be brought here and
stored until Malveria needed them. The Fire Queen was in an excellent
mood as they returned downstairs.

"When I arrive in the new formal coat the Princess Kabachetka
will simply fade away in comparison. Dearest Thrix, you have excelled
yourself again."

Livia's celebration was on the fourteenth of next month, just
five weeks away. Enough time, provided Thrix suffered no more
interruptions.

"Kalix is doing well," said Moonglow, who'd noticed that
neither of her visitors had asked about her.

The Enchantress nodded.

"Good. It's important she stays here. It wouldn't do for
Sarapen to find her just now."

"She hasn't been vomiting so much," said Moonglow. This was
true. After rescuing Dominil, Kalix had eaten pizza while still in
werewolf form, and afterwards had not thrown up. Moonglow was hoping
for further improvements if she would just stay around, and perhaps
start to feel more secure. But in truth, neither Thrix nor Malveria
seemed very interested in hearing about Kalix.
They were too involved in plans
concerning clothes.

"I will dazzle the assembled multitudes at
the Sorceress Livia's 500th birthday
celebration. Already my spirits are
revived. I have quite
forgotten my previous fashion disasters."

148

"Werewolves are not keen gamblers, as a rule," said Merchant
Mac-Doig. "Not in my experience anyway. I don't think it's in the
blood."

"Aye, father," replied the Young MacDoig. "I'd agree with
that."

The Merchant slid a picture from the wall to reveal a safe.

"But that's not to say you won't find the occasional werewolf
who's fond of a wager. Kertal MacRinnalch, for instance. He's a
gambling werewolf, sure enough."

Kertal, nephew of the late Thane, son of Kurian, and brother
of Marwanis. A member of the Great Council, a strong supporter of
Sara-pen, and a respectable werewolf. Apart from his gambling habit.

The Merchant opened the safe.

"And a bad gambling habit will inevitably lead a man - or a
werewolf- into debt. Your mother was strongly against it, son."

Father and son paused respectfully at the mention of the
Merchant's late wife.

The Merchant took something from the safe, a small object
wrapped in a tartan cloth. He unwrapped the cloth to reveal a knife,
very old, but still bright and sharp, and etched with curious symbols.

"The great Begravar knife," said MacDoig, with satisfaction.

The Merchant had bought the knife from Kertal, who'd removed
it from the castle vaults after cunningly making a copy of the key that
hung round Verasa's neck by taking an impression with a soft clay pad
while he embraced her in greeting. It had been slyly done.

It had cost the Merchant a large sum of money to buy the
knife. Even so, he'd paid well below the market value. The knife was a
relic of ancient Mesopotamia and would have been sought after by any
museum.

"An expensive item," muttered MacDoig. "But when a werewolf
like Kertal urgently needs money to clear his debts and doesn't want
his father to learn of it, the price isn't so great, all things
considered."

"It's a beautiful artefact," said the Young MacDoig.

"It is," agreed the Merchant. "Glows when a werewolf's close,
and confuses the wolf, so they say."

"And kills easily," added his son.

"It does. Not that we would want any werewolf to be killed,
them being such fine customers of ours."

"Who will you sell it to?"

The Merchant scratched his chin.

"Well that's a tricky one, son. There's many a werewolf might
be pleased to have this weapon. They're all going to end up fighting
each other, sooner or later. But we have to take care. There's some of
them as might want it, yet we couldn't afford to let them know we had
it."

"You mean Sarapen?"

MacDoig nodded. Sarapen would not take kindly to anyone trying
to sell him a stolen MacRinnalch relic. That was not to say the
transaction couldn't be made. The Merchant might claim, for instance,
that the person who stole the knife had contacted him, and wondered if
the Merchant might be willing to act as intermediary in the return of
the knife, for a price. That had worked for the MacDoig before.

"I'll think on it a while, lad, and see who might be prepared
to pay most. A lot of the MacRinnalchs have money of their own."

"The Avenaris Guild is also rich," suggested the Young MacDoig.

"The Guild? True, they have money. It's a possibility."

The Merchant's son pursed his lips.

"Perhaps we should sell it soon, father. Before the
MacRinnalch feud ends. It will lose some value if they make peace."

The MacDoig chuckled.

"I don't think that's very likely, lad. I heard today that
there's been fighting in Colburn Wood. The new Baron MacAllister is
already dead and the captain of the castle guard is gravely wounded.
There will be no peace among the MacRinnalchs for a long time to come."

149

The Mistress of the Werewolves cancelled the next meeting of
the Great Council. Rainal was doubtful about the legality of this but
Verasa overruled him.

"Rainal, do you really expect me to hold a meeting of the
Great Council when one member of the council has kidnapped and nearly
killed another member? When that same member has induced Baron
MacAllister to launch an attack on the MacRinnalchs in Colburn Wood?"

Rainal did admit that the situation was awkward. How Sarapen,
Dominil and Markus could ever again sit together in the council chamber
could hardly be imagined. As for the MacAllisters, their new Baron was
now dead after only three weeks in office. His place would be taken by
his younger brother; another supporter of Sarapen, and no less rash, by
all accounts.

Eskandor, the captain of the castle guard, lay wounded in the
state rooms which had been converted into a hospital ward for the
victims of the battle. Verasa had not been expecting such injury and
loss of life, and blamed Eskandor for his lack of caution. There was no
way that the council could meet at the next full moon, only five days
away.

"But what then?" asked Rainal. "You can't keep postponing
meetings."

"By the time of the following full moon I'll have enough votes
to declare Markus Thane."

"The longer we wait," pointed out Rainal. "The more time
Sarapen has to dispose of his enemies."

"I know. But I can't bring Markus to the castle just now."

Rainal nodded. It was a delicate subject. He knew that Verasa
regretted her second son's lack of strength.

Tupan was wholly in agreement with Verasa's decision to cancel
the next council meeting. He even suggested to the Mistress of the
Werewolves that she expel Sarapen from the clan. After all, Sarapen had
committed violence against other council members. Verasa was tempted,
though she held off from taking this drastic step, still feeling that
she could procure a vote in favour of Markus. Once that was done,
everyone would fall into line. Postponing the meeting gave her another
five weeks in which to work. By then Markus's health would have
improved and the twins might have been persuaded. That left her
need-ing only one more vote, and she hadn't been idle.
She was still work-. ing on Dulupina and Kurian.

Verasa transmitted her decision to postpone the next meeting.
It brought polite but concerned responses from Barons MacPhee and
MacGregor. The new Baron MacAllister, busy burying his older brother,
did not reply. Sarapen sent a cold response through Decem-brius. It was
illegal, he said, to postpone the next meeting, and Sara-pen would come
to the castle if he chose.

An odd report had come back from Colburn Wood. Two of those
who fought there were quite certain that as they struggled with the
MacAllisters near the river, they had caught the scent of Hiyastas.
This was hard to believe. It was the very last place you would expect
to find them. Verasa made a mental note to ask Thrix about it. Perhaps
she could enlighten her.

150

Dominil limped back to the twins' house in the early evening.
She had been walking the streets for several hours and her injured leg
was very painful. The sisters were lying on the couch watching old
videos on VH1. As Dominil entered the room they were hurling abuse at
Van Halen.

"I have found you a gig," said Dominil.

The twins were so excited that they sat up.

"Where?"

"The King's Head."

The King's Head was a good venue, very suitable. An old pub
now converted into a rock venue, the room upstairs where bands played
was busy most nights of the week. It was one of the places Dominil had
tried to book before, with no success.

"How did you do it?"

"I threatened the manager," replied Dominil.

"Really?"

The twins were impressed, and pleased. The manager of the
King's Head deserved to be threatened. He had once banned them from his
establishment for very little reason.

It wasn't true that Dominil had threatened him, though she
would have if necessary. She had actually bribed the promoter who
looked, after Wednesday nights at the venue, using Verasa's money. It
had been easy enough and was something she'd have done before had the
sisters not been so anxious to avoid any accusations of buying their
way to success. However, after making enquiries, Dominil had learned
that bribing a promoter was not particularly unusual. It did not place
the twins outside the norms of behaviour for any small band making a
start. But she let the twins believe she'd threatened the manager,
knowing they'd like that better.

"When is it?"

"About five weeks from now. Wednesday the fourteenth."

The twins grumbled about playing on a Wednesday. It wasn't the
best night for attracting people to see an unknown band. Dominil
pointed out that it had been hard enough to find anything. Besides, the
fourteenth was two nights before the full moon, which meant it was the
last night they could play. On the wolf nights of Thursday, Friday and
Saturday, they'd be in werewolf shape.

"Couldn't we have played after the full moon?" wondered
Delicious.

"No," replied Dominil, but didn't offer an explanation. The
Mistress of the Werewolves had cancelled the next council meeting. But
at the meeting after that, in five weeks' time, Verasa believed she'd
be able to secure Markus's election, if the twins voted. There was no
chance of them doing that unless they were so grateful to Dominil for
helping them that they'd be willing to travel to the castle. This meant
that the twins had to play some time in the next five weeks. Dominil
had this clear in her mind, though she was not yet pressuring them to
vote. She'd leave that until she'd made more progress.

"Tomorrow I will make a start on publicity and whatever else
needs to be done. You will rehearse at the new studio."